“And I want you to stop dodging.  You take a great deal too prominent a part in this thing for a person who has got nothing to do with it.  You should remember that you are here only by courtesy, and are without official recognition; officially you are not here at all; officially you do not even exist.  To all intents and purposes you are absent from this place, and you ought for your own modesty’s sake to reflect that it cannot become a person who is not present here to be taking this sort of public and indecent prominence in a matter in which he is not in the slightest degree concerned.  Now, don’t dodge again; the bullets are not for you, they are for me; if I want them dodged I will attend to it myself.  I never saw a person act so.”

Angelo saw the reasonableness of what his brother had said, and he did try to reform, but it was of no use; both pistols went off at the same instant, and he jumped once more; he got a sharp scrape along his cheek from the judge’s bullet, and so deflected Luigi’s aim that his ball went wide and chipped flake of skin from Pudd’nhead Wilson’s chin.  The doctor attended to the wounded.

By the terms, the duel was over.  But Luigi was entirely out of patience, and begged for one exchange of shots, insisting that he had had no fair chance, on account of his brother’s indelicate behavior.  Howard was opposed to granting so unusual a privilege, but the judge took Luigi’s part, and added that indeed he himself might fairly be considered entitled to another trial, because although the proxy on the other side was in no way to blame for his (the judge’s) humiliatingly resultless work, the gentleman with whom he was fighting this duel was to blame for it, since if he had played no advantages and had held his head still, his proxy would have been disposed of early.  He added: 

“Count Luigi’s request for another exchange is another proof that he is a brave and chivalrous gentleman, and I beg that the courtesy he asks may be accorded him.”

“I thank you most sincerely for this generosity, Judge Driscoll,” said Luigi, with a polite bow, and moving to his place.  Then he added to Angelo, “Now hold your grip, hold your grip, I tell you, and I’ll land him sure!”

The men stood erect, their pistol-arms at their sides, the two seconds stood at their official posts, the doctor stood five paces in Wilson’s rear with his instruments and bandages in his hands.  The deep stillness, the peaceful moonlight, the motionless figures, made an impressive picture and the impending fatal possibilities augmented this impressiveness solemnity.  Wilson’s hand began to rise—­slowly—­still higher—­still higher—­in another moment: 

“Boom!” the first stroke of midnight swung up out of the distance; Angelo was off like a deer!

“Oh, you unspeakable traitor!” wailed his brother, as they went soaring over the fence.

The others stood astonished and gazing; and so stood, watching that strange spectacle until distance dissolved it and swept it from their view.  Then they rubbed their eyes like people waking out of a dream,